Revenge's Role

Holding his breath he pressed his ear to the door and listened. A low keening could be heard through the door; to John it sounded like the pathetic lament of the eternally doomed. Trepidation flooded over him in surging waves as awe compelled him down upon his hands and knees. He could not help but look through the keyhole. He saw sitting in the windowsill opposite, the moonlit form of his moaning brother.

John stayed watching for several moments until the phantom turned away from the window towards the door whereupon John bolted, certain it was aware of him, and cowardly retreated to his room where he locked himself in. He cowered by the door once again waiting for the executioner's axe to fall.

But it did not fall and as he sat there trembling strange new thoughts took form in him. Maybe it wasn’t his brother come back to deliver retribution; instead perhaps it was a warning to change his immoral ways before it was too late and those lurid nightmares were a glimpse of his just desserts if he failed to reform. Yes that was what it surely must be; a most severe admonition to him, which required a last-gasp act of rehabilitation to save him from what it augured. It was this still somewhat dismal interpretation of the visitor's purpose that offered him hope.

He would not be so scornful or callous to his fellow man. He would show respect to all, even those so obviously inferior. His ethics would undergo amelioration. His industrious avariciousness would be replaced by strenuous altruism. As regards the most foul crime, although penitent he could not confess to be judged by mans law; after all he reasoned what was that paltry law when compared to Gods prodigious rule. To his wife he would make amends for past negligence. However, try as he might, the best his character could do was to change from a devout misanthropists to a laodicean philanthropist.

It was on the following night that he encountered the visitor for the third and final time. He stood on the landing, looking down the broad stairs at the stationary phantom below which was silently mouthing words. Fear and doubt welled up in John again but instead of running away angry resolve goaded him and he descended the stairs like a tempest; feet thundering on the steps, arms gesticulating wildly and mouth uttering forth profanities and execrations at the foul demon to depart forever from his home. A pained grimace contorted the intruder's face and with that it turned and fled into the shadows and was gone, never more to trouble John.

This action seemed to evince his new-found resolve and herald the beginnings of change but in truth it was a regression to his former unyielding self. The vindictive film of oil that had threatened to suffocate him now released him. But something was missing and the horrid nightmares persisted - more intense than before if that was possible - and misgivings abounded as he continued his mechanical existence.

****

It was a miserable night that John awoke with a start. Stormy wind and rain creaked and rapped his window. John climbed out of bed and started downstairs to determine the cause of his disturbance, which unknown to him had been a door slamming shut.

Downstairs he soon discovered that someone was present in the parlour, from which an orange glow was emitted through its open door, throwing light into the dark hall. Unafraid and unquestioning he stepped into the room. As his bleary eyes adjusted to the light he saw his wife sitting on the chair.